Mysterious Ways
by Joyce Quinn
Summary: After a traumatic event, Woody’s life is in danger and in his mind life goes on in a parallel universe. Now is Jordan's turn to save him.
1. In Sickness and in Health

**Title**: _**Mysterious Ways**_

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Crossing Jordan._

**Summary:** _"After a traumatic event, Woody's life is in danger and in his mind life goes on in a parallel universe. Now is Jordan's turn to save him."_

_**As you know, reviews are always appreciated.**__** So, feel free to leave a comment.**_

* * *

**Chapter 1:**** In Sickness and in Health**

It was three days after the shooting. The last words Woody had uttered before this nightmare began, I love you, were echoing in Jordan's mind like in a resonance box as she was looking through the glass wall of the hospital room at the intensive care unit of Massachusetts General Hospital. Woody was there, lying on a bed, fighting for his life, and she felt numbed by pain which seemed not to have an end. The air was rare. The lack of oxygen, the constricted space, the white walls and the aseptic scent were overwhelming. She was reflecting on how the snowball of the recent events had been growing until it crushed her, and she wanted to be anywhere but here, though at the same time there was no force on the planet that could make her leave this place.

Two days before, Woody had had a major surgery to repair his lung, and he wasn't awake yet. She wasn't allowed into his room because of some serious complications that they were going to explain to her today. This was the same hospital where Garret was staying, and although he still hadn't been released, he had been able to be with her since the incident. There he was with her at that very moment, and for that she was grateful.

The entire morgue family had been with her during the surgery, and after that they were coming to visit their wounded friend anytime they could. But Jordan hadn't left the hospital since the first day. She had made a vow, she had promised that she would wait for this man for whatever it took, and she was planning to be true to that promise. Her happiness, her life was at stake. She was using crutches because of her broken ankle, and that was uncomfortable but she didn't care. If it hadn't been for her friends, she would be in a deplorable state. Lily was bringing her a fresh change of clothes every day, and was making sure she ate. That was enough at the moment.

George was in that hospital too, and he was now out of danger, at the other side of the complex. James hadn't appeared since the incident. Rickman had died at the house, and Jordan had indicated to detective Seely where he could find the box with the maps. She wanted to introduce them as evidence of Rickman's motive for the murders he had committed. As far as her brother was concerned, she believed he might be exonerated for killing the major – they could plead legitimate defense.

After that day – the day of the shooting, and after Woody's surgery, she learned that Rickman was a suspect in her mother's murder, too. He had been like a malign shadow covering her life; he had taken away her mother, her grandma and she didn't want to even imagine he could take away her soul too, as Woody's life was endangered.

Max hadn't been informed about any of the recent events because nobody but Jordan knew how to contact him. She hadn't had any head for anything that wasn't related to Woody. Max hadn't called or anything, either, so he was forgotten.

Dr. Barrett, Woody's physician, headed toward them from the end of the corridor. "Dr. Cavanaugh, Dr. Macy," he greeted the ME's. "I'm afraid I don't bring you good news." Jordan's exhausted face revealed to him the inadequacy of this introduction, and he coughed.

"Why hasn't he woken up yet? What else is going on with him?"

Jordan's distressed voice hurt Garret, and he put his arm around her shoulder to show her he'd be there to support her, no matter what bad news Dr. Barrett had.

"You know, the lung that was injured – where the bullet caused epithelial rupture of the wall and contamination of proteins in bloodstream – had been repaired, but we haven't managed to put the infection under control yet." The doctor knew that these people needed more medical details than ordinary relatives, and he was struggling with how much they needed to know at this point. "It seems that his immune system doesn't want to work. He has problems to breathe, so we've put him on a ventilator; the bleeding caused by the infection hasn't really stopped, and we haven't been able to lower his fever." He decided that they weren't going to be satisfied if he didn't tell them the whole situation, so – after a short pause – he continued, "We're suspecting acquired aplastic anemia because his volume of packed red cells per hundred milliliters of blood is far below normal. We'll need a bone marrow examination, detection of GPI anchor membrane protein-negative leucocyte by flow cytometry, Ham test and the MRI of breast lumbar bone marrow in order to make a proper diagnosis. But you, as a doctor, should know that if we confirm aplastic anemia, and in this case a real severe one, the most effective therapy with anti-thymocyte globulin won't be as effective as bone marrow transplantation from an HLA-compatible sibling donor."

"Bone marrow tra… but how could it be, he hasn't been in contact with chemicals, and I know he doesn't do drugs; in fact, he hates them!" Jordan replied, alarmed. If this was that bad that they were already planning a bone marrow transplantation, Woody's state was worse that she'd imagined – a situation like this usually meant two or three months before the unavoidable end.

"However, Dr. Cavanaugh, in most cases of acquired aplastic anemia the cause is never found... I'm really sorry. But let's not take any of this too seriously before we do the tests; maybe there is some other cause of the infection…" Dr. Barrett finished. He knew that other causes were far behind, but he had to infuse these people with hope. This beautiful young doctor seemed to need some hope.

Jordan couldn't hold the tears any longer. "We need to find Cal," she uttered in a trembling voice. Cal hadn't been in the picture since the Albanian mob incident, and she didn't know where he could be living or what he could be doing; Woody hadn't told her anything about him. And although they could try a drug treatment or even search for compatible donors for the transplantation, Woody's best chance was his brother.

Garret hugged her tightly, trying to be reassuring. "We'll find him." It was a promise difficult to keep because even if they were able to find him, they needed to do it on time.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Woody's_ _parallel universe…_

Two entire days had passed since he was shot; it was the morning of the third one. He looked around the room, getting frustrated. From the golden rays of sunshine bouncing off the sterile white walls, one could say that it was going to be a beautiful day. And he had to stay in that damn hospital bed despite the fact he was feeling perfectly well. They had been able to treat the wound non-operationally. The bullet had nicked the liver, but it hadn't done a lot of damage. Dr. Barrett himself had told him last night that he would fully recover shortly. He didn't even need painkillers any longer. Well, almost. Why did he have to stay in bed, then? He swiftly threw the covers off, decisive to show them and himself that he was ready to go back to his normal life. No sooner had his feet touched the white tiles ("Why everything has to be so sickeningly white?" he wondered.) than he heard some commotion on the other side of the door and saw the knob turn. All his decidedness gone in a heartbeat, he promptly jumped back into bed, frantically trying to tuck himself in as well as he could. For, he had a hunch about who it could be that early in the morning, and he wasn't feeling like annoying that person, especially before her caffeine fix.

A tray with a big bowl of something that was still smoking and ominously smelled like hospital chicken soup (of which he had some dreadful memories dating from his last stay at Mass General) and an extra-large coffee-to-go entered first, followed by a chirpy, "Well, good morning, Detective Studmuffin!"

He blinked. The woman carrying the tray looked like Jordan, but the vocabulary, the tone and the as-sugary-as-they-go grin were… extremely uncharacteristic of her, to put it gently. Was she back to those crystal thingies? Or, was he hallucinating?

She carefully set her load down to the bedside table, and perched herself on the edge of the bed. Then she smirked, putting an end to all his questions.

"What were you doing while I was fighting dust bunnies at your place?" She smacked him on the arm. "I hijacked this," she motioned to the soup with her head, "from a ditzy blonde who was just explaining to her colleague how she was going to bring it to room 31." She paused a little. "To that studmuffin of a detective, ya know!" she added in a high-pitched voice before she let out a small, girly chuckle, obviously impersonating the perky nurse, who – by the way – had a very pleasant, soothing voice.

He grinned at her. "Why, Doctor, don't tell me you're j-e-a-l-o-u-s." The last word came in an almost singsong voice.

She smiled back slyly. "Why would I be jealous, _Muffin_? I'm gonna have you all for myself very soon," she informed him, underlying her words by tapping a finger against his chest.

"I actually prefer Stud," he retorted matter-of-factly, which made her snort. Before she had time to add a snarky comment to that unladylike sound, he pulled her in for a quick kiss. "And not that I mind you having me for yourself a bit," he told her after they separated, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, "but what exactly do you have in mind?"

"I had a chat with Dr. Barrett a few minutes ago. He told me he hadn't yet had the opportunity to see you this morning. And… he told me you could go home tomorrow or even later today." The Cheshire Cat would have been embarrassed by her smile. She had been so afraid ever since she felt his blood on her fingers that terrible day in her grandma's residence. Only three or four days in hospital… That was far better than she had expected.

His face immediately lit up, but he didn't manage to say anything because she continued.

"You will have to rest," she warned. "And you're not going back to work for at least two weeks.

His enthusiasm seemed to fade rapidly. That sounded as good as staying there.

"So, I was thinking something…" she went on. "It would be a good idea that you have someone to make sure that you're following the doctor's instructions and that all that housework is done. _And_… you should thank your luck because I volunteer for the position."

"Oh yeah?" The dimples appeared. This was better, _a_ _lot_ better. But she would be at work half the day, and their apartments weren't really close, and sometimes she would probably be too tired to come… "Just… wouldn't that be too tiring for you? Wouldn't it be better if you stayed with me for a couple of days?" He didn't know from where came the idea. Oh well, he did know from where the thought appeared, but not how he had the courage to voice it. Despite the fact that they were closer than ever and that she had even forgiven him for keeping things from her, she was still Jordan, i.e. one false step could ruin everything.

She stared at him blankly for a couple of seconds, and then asked, "Weren't you listening to me?" Seeing the expression of utter puzzlement on his face, she laughed and ruffled his hair a bit. "That bullet destroyed some brain cells, too? I _am_ staying with you. In fact, I've already left a couple of things at your place." Then it occurred to her that that could be a bit too much too soon. After all, she hadn't talked to him about that. "I thought you wouldn't mind." Despite the effort, she sounded more cautious than casual.

As he wasn't exactly the most eloquent person in the world, he opted for showing her that he didn't mind it at all.

"I'll take that for 'On the contrary.'" she gasped out, flushed, quite a few moments later. "And, as much as I hate to break it to you, similar… _activities_ aren't really allowed during the recovery."

He shot her an incredulous look, and she simply had to smile – he looked like a schoolboy who just found out that his parents were coming home a day earlier.

"But maybe, just maybe, if I assess your condition as… well, good enough…" Her voice trailed off as she turned to the table. "Eh, well, in order to recover," she started, taking the tray, "you will have to eat properly." She flashed him a beaming grin, knowing his hatred of chicken soup, but also knowing that this was for his good.

He made a grunting sound. Then, defeated, he took the spoon. "As you say, doctor."


	2. Don't Leave Me This Way

**Title****:** Mysterious Ways

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Crossing Jordan_. The same goes for _The Ellen DeGeneres Show_. The cute little girl mentioned here is Isabella Natalinie.

**Summary:** _After a traumatic event, Woody's life is in danger and in his mind life goes on in a parallel universe. Now is Jordan's turn to save him._

* * *

**Chapter 2: Don't Leave Me This Way**

"I only want to say goodbye to him. I don't know how long it'll be until I come back. Please…" Jordan begged Dr. Barrett. She was already wearing scrubs.

Woody was still in a coma, struggling for his life. Dr. Barrett had confirmed the aplastic anemia. The drug treatment only alleviated the symptoms, and Woody definitely needed a bone marrow transplantation. No compatible donors had been found, and Jordan felt that they were wasting time. She was leaving today – she had decided that she had to find Cal. Each and every member of her morgue family, as well as some friends from the BPD, had helped her search for Woody's brother the way they always did. However, it had all been to no avail. He seemed to have evaporated. Not even Nigel had been able to find a thing about the younger of the Hoyt brothers. Cal was doing a hell of a job hiding.

Jordan couldn't just let go of it, so she had contacted some people from Kewaunee, where she was going to continue the search. They told her that Cal hadn't been in town for three or four years. Still, it was a better place to start than any other, and she was leaving, no matter what Garret, or Nigel, or any of her friends, could say about it.

She just needed to say goodbye to Woody first… He was isolated in his room because any infection, even the flu, could be fatal.

"Ok, Dr. Cavanaugh, go in there." Dr. Barrett approved.

It was the first time she was allowed to come into his room. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it would get away and start running before her. Her steps were insecure as her legs were trembling. Nonetheless, the people outside – Garret and Dr. Barrett – were watching a brave woman entering Woody's hospital room.

She stood beside his bed. He almost seemed lifeless. If it weren't for the hissing of the ventilator pushing air into his lungs and for the beeping of the monitor, she wouldn't be able to tell he was alive. That horrified her. What to do? Touch his hand? Kiss him? Cry? Anxiety enveloped her.

"Woody… I'm sorry I didn't come earlier, but the doctor wouldn't let me. I haven't left your side, though. I've been here all the time… I don't want you to leave me. Please, you have to get well. I don't know what I'll do if you leave me…" As she noticed she was losing control, she closed her eyes and remained silent for a moment, recovering and not allowing herself to cry. "I have to go looking for Cal, and I'll be back on time… We need Cal…" She caressed his hand. It felt so cold that she had to bit her lip in order to keep tears at bay. "Woody, I love you… I think I've been in love with you almost since I met you, though I didn't realize it until it was almost too late… But we have to get another chance; you have to keep fighting… I'll find Cal and everything will be alright."

Tears were already on her cheeks. Her body was quivering. She was hyperventilating. That was not the way she wanted to say goodbye, so she hastily walked to a corner of the room. She turned to the wall, her hands on her face.

A minute went by. Garret observed, worried and heart-broken, as the tough woman he knew was about to break. He could use a double whisky…

She took a deep breath and returned to Woody's bed.

"Goodbye, Woody. I love you."

And that was it; she almost ran to the exit, moving as fast as one can while using crutches, and went to hide in the women's restrooms.

When she came out, her eyes red and swollen and her features pale, Nigel and Garret were waiting for her.

"I'll go with you, love," Nigel declared. He was holding a carryall.

"Thanks, Nige. I appreciate the help." Jordan tapped her friend's shoulder. "Your sling is gone?" she asked, noticing that he wasn't using said item.

"Yes; 'twas about time. Do you want a ride?" He motioned towards the two helmets on a chair beside them.

Jordan looked at them, but shook her head. "No, we'd better buy a more suitable means of transportation, don't you think?" She dropped her eyes to her broken ankle.

"Oh, you're right. I forgot we're talking to a wealthy woman now!"

Garret put his arm around her shoulders, and held her tight for a moment. Meanwhile, Nigel glanced at them and started to walk.

"I'm gonna need Kate to take care of the motorcycle. Do you mind if we meet her at your place, love? You still need a ride to get there." He made a pause and raised his eyebrows. "Pearl Street?"

Jordan nodded and he took his cell phone out.

"I'll be watching over him," Garret told her instead of a goodbye, tilting his head towards the room where Woody was. "You just take care of yourself, Jordan."

He squeezed her again, and then Nigel and she departed.

* * *

When they arrived to Jordan's apartment, Kate had already been waiting for them. Jordan told them that she wouldn't be long and that they didn't need to come up with her if they didn't want to. She knew that this pair was going to say goodbye in their own way, and she didn't want to be an intruder.

She was packing everything she thought she was going to need: a few pairs of jeans, a bunch of t-shirts, some underwear… She was looking for anything she might have forgotten when she heard noises outside her bedroom.

"I haven't been that long. It's been like what? Five minutes?" She said annoyed. That had been a real fast goodbye.

Nobody answered, but steps were clearly coming closer to her, so she left her baggage and headed to see what was happening.

"Hey, sis, I can't but notice you're gonna travel," James said. He was now standing at her bedroom door.

"What?" Jordan hurried, as much as she could with the crutches, to embrace her brother. "Where have you been?"

She had tears in her eyes. Before, she never cried; now, she did because of every damn little thing. This was not a little thing, though, so she let herself weep.

"Watching you, sis. I'm sorry about what happened…" James held his sister lovingly. "But, I swear to you, I'll do whatever it takes to help you to get to your detective's brother, even if I have to drag him from the mob."

"Are you coming with me?"

"Well, of course, sis. You can't do much with only one good leg, and your goth friend doesn't seem too… _fierce_, let's say".

She wiped her tears away. Then she lifted her bag and walked resolutely to the door. "Ok, let's go."

* * *

_Meanwhile__..._

He had been released a few hours ago. Now they were idling away in his bedroom, each on their side on the bed, his laptop between them. Jordan didn't know when they had stopped watching old music videos and proceeded to clips from _Ellen_, or rather: clips from _Ellen_ which featured children. He was slyer that she had been giving him credit for. When she turned to face him, however, he was pure innocence.

"What?" he asked, his eyes open wide.

"Nothing." Maybe she was just being paranoid.

"No, what is it?"

"I just…" Now, this was going to sound awkward. She cleared her throat a bit. "I just never figured you were into kids… this much."

The dimples appeared as he motioned towards the screen. "Are they cute or what?"

"They're cute, alright," she admitted, trying to add a bit of enthusiasm into her voice.

She failed, and he didn't fail to notice that. "But…?"

"There are no buts. They're cute. End of story," she claimed, standing up. "I'll go get your painkillers."

While she was rummaging through his bathroom cabinet, she heard a little voice singing, and she knew the five-year-old expert on the US presidents had finished his exposé. Woody was listening to the girl chirping the names of all fifty states, alphabetically. She winced involuntarily. They had heard her at least three times.

"Isn't she the most adorable little thing?" he grinned at her when she entered with a glass of water and a pill. She remained mute, thinking that was wiser than pointing out she'd barely heard him over the "most adorable little thing's" high-pitched "Nebraaaaaaskaa." He shook his head, that goofy grin still plastered across his face. "She's way smarter than a child of mine could possibly be, though." He sighed, taking the glass.

"Don't sell me short," she retorted without thinking, and his eyes bulged as he almost choked on the painkiller. "There, I said it," she added matter-of-factly, forcing herself to look at him. She should really bite her tongue more often. "You happy _now_?"

He made a face. The question hadn't sounded rhetorical enough to him. His "yeah" resembled "duh."

She closed the laptop first. Then she gingerly snuggled against him. What was the big deal, anyway? It wasn't like she had never thought about _that_. And how adorable _their_ kids were going to be… But… "But I'm not naming my children after presidents," she voiced her thoughts.

"Oh but…" He protested half-heartedly.

"That's _not_ negotiable."

"I'll survive," he confessed, twirling a lock of her hair.

They stayed like that for some time, and she started to feel drowsy although it was only seven-thirty. The last few days were taking their toll. His breathing was deep and even, so she lifted her head from his shoulder to give him a good-night kiss before she went to the couch in the living-room. He caught her by surprise. He was nowhere near asleep. On the contrary. The innocent little kiss she had had in mind turned into a series of kisses which left her in need of oxygen. As his lips moved to trace her jaw line, she sighed. She knew she had to break it off. But just a little more… When he tugged at the hem of her tee, she groaned. That was too much. His health wasn't _that_ good.

"Woody!" She slapped his hand as an exasperated sigh escaped her. "What are you doing?"

"Need I explain?" he countered with a question, his voice husky.

She clucked. "How old are you again? You know what Dr. Barrett said."

But the good doctor was long-forgotten. In fact, Woody only vaguely remembered he had ever been in hospital. How could he remember anything when she was here, so warm and smelling so good? He silenced her with another kiss.

"Okay, that's it," she concluded, managing to get some air. She removed his hands from her hair and her waist, and got up hastily before he was able to get a hold of her again.

He stood up, but she was already in the corridor. "Where are you going?"

"Stay right there!" She jabbed a finger at him. "I'm going to go get us something to eat," she explained, taking her jacket and purse.

"We can order in."

She almost snorted at the suggestion. "No, we can't." Her hand on the knob, she glanced back at him. "I'll be back in ten minutes. Meanwhile, you transform back from octopus." She flashed him a little smile.

"Jordan…"

But she was already out the door. He plopped on the bed and punched the pillow. This recovery was going to be long indeed.


	3. Necessary Risks

_Here we go again__!_

Firstly, I do not own _Crossing Jordan_.

Secondly, I would like to thank my reviewers, so **KJ22****, ****BugFan4Ever****, ****SpencerReid187****, ****XxLynnxX****, **thanks.

Summary: _After a traumatic event, Woody's life is in danger and in his mind life goes on in a parallel universe. Now is Jordan's turn to save him._

* * *

Chapter 3: **Necessary Risks**

Kate and Nigel were waiting for Jordan outside her building, beside the motorcycle. Jordan came out with a man. The familiarity between them was rather strange. The man was handsome, tall, a little scruffy, middle-aged and with a flame of intelligence burning in his stare. Nigel couldn't say of whom exactly this man reminded him.

"And who might you be?" asked Kate when the siblings were close to them. Rudeness was one of her traits, and the fact that Woody was practically dying at the hospital while this man was showing way too much interest in Jordan just enhanced her impoliteness.

"Let's say that I'm a man dragged into a family quest." He was used to answering in riddles, and his reply reminded them of the clues leading to Rickman. It sunk in rather rapidly on them who he was.

Nigel's eyes widened and he almost choked. "What?!" He coughed, trying to regain his breath and his composure. "Are you saying that you're James Horton?" The words came out almost in a whisper. He was obviously afraid that someone could hear him.

"You could say so," replied James, enjoying every reaction that his sister's goth friend had displayed.

"Oh! Come on, Nigel, no one can hear you here, and no one cares. Yes, he is James, and he's offered to come with us," Jordan said, a little annoyed that they received her brother reluctantly.

Kate's stance changed to a more amused one, although she had her doubts about how sensible it was to hang out with an outlaw, no matter how handsome or intelligent he was. "Is it wise to go searching for Woody's brother with your brother, Jordan?"

Nigel kept nodding nervously, moving his disturbed, wide-open eyes from one woman to the other. James could hardly hold back a joyful scorn because of this goth friend of Jordan's. How could he possible be of any use in their search?

"I'm much more acquainted with the roads we'll have to take to find the detective's brother. I bet that he's not a regular at Saint Inez," retorted James.

"Ok, while we're showing each other our credentials, why don't we hit the road? Good bye, Kate. Take care of Evander, please." Jordan handed her keys to the other woman and headed to the cab which was already waiting.

* * *

"Ok, but you have to promise me you won't laugh…" Both men nodded, and she took a deep breath, "I had to tell them that I was his fiancée."

She was admiring the ring she had taken from Woody's apartment during their first attempt to locate Cal. It was the ring that had been destined to her long time ago, and she'd been really surprised to find it almost in plain sight. How come he'd never gotten rid of it? Well, then it had meant friendship, now it meant hope to her.

"Not exactly that I'm lying, but anticipating the future, don't you think?" Jordan bit her lip, glancing back to Nigel, while James, who was driving her SUV, chocked a snort. "You know how small town people can be. They wouldn't be satisfied if I were anything less than that".

"So, what are we, love? Your maids of honor?" Nigel asked, holding back laughter.

"Nigel! This is difficult for me, please."

After this response, everybody remained silent until they arrived to the Hoyts' house in Kewaunee. She had imagined it as a farm, as she always thought of Woody as her farm boy – talk about stereotypes. She wasn't prepared for a small-town house, old and abandoned, and having nothing to do with a farm. All they could see during the drive from downtown to there were green forests and the beautiful view of Lake Michigan. The house was certainly nowhere near the town centre, and they had to take a difficult road to get there – "a dotted line on the map" would be Woody's way of describing it**.**

The sheriff was waiting for them at the entrance door, sitting on a chair that threatened to collapse.

"Dr. Cavanaugh," he greeted her, standing up and extending his hand for a shake.

Jordan took his hand and introduced her partners to him. "Dr. Nigel Townsend and Dr. James, er…" she hesitated a little, but finished, "Walden."

James shot her a killing look. Nigel shook the sheriff's hand too, but James just acknowledged him with a nod.

"I'm very sorry, Doc. I don't know what you expect to find here, but I'll do my best to help you. How is Woody doing?"

Sheriff Banks was not much older than Woody. He was tall, blond, green-eyed, nothing out of the ordinary. He was showing his concern and talked as he cared about Woody's condition.

Jordan watched him while he was trying to open the door. She was wondering what kind of relationship the sheriff and her Woody had had. She had dreaded to come to this town, full of secrets to her, full of memories that she didn't know about… She sighed. "Not good, Sheriff. His best chance of coming out of this alive is Cal."

"Cal… As I told you before, the last time I saw him was right after he'd returned from visiting Woody in Boston, er… like three years ago. He told us he was going to try his luck in New York. He gets really animated when he's in trouble, and he looked pretty animated to me. After one week or so, he left. He asked me to take care of his key. 'In case Woody comes back,' he said. I could tell he wasn't planning to come back… I haven't been here since then…" The Sheriff was struggling with the lock while he talked.

The door finally opened, but the construction was so deteriorated that the door fell off its hinges and almost collapsed onto their heads. Banks and Nigel stopped the fall, and James helped them from the inside to return the door to a standing position.

"How did you get in there?" Jordan questioned her brother, looking amazed at his sudden appearance.

"Hey, sis, professional secrets…" He glanced towards where Banks and Nigel were trying to put the door against the wall.

"I guess you'll have to spend the night with no lock… There isn't really anything to be scared of, but I would try to block the door." Banks estimated the extent of the damage and shook his head.

"Don't worry Sheriff, I'll fix it," James reassured him.

"Alright, call me if you need anything." Sheriff Banks glanced at the man and nodded. "Anything. Woody's a good friend, I would like to be helpful." He was now looking at Jordan and offering his hand for a goodbye. "Oh, I almost forgot!" Banks took a letter out of his coat pocket, "Cal also left me this to give it to Woody, but I guess as you're his fiancée and he can't come to get it, it's alright that I give it to you." He handed the letter to Jordan.

The letter was burning her hands. It might contain some clues about Cal's disappearance. "Yes, sheriff, believe me, I'll keep your offer in mind," she told him as they shook hands. Everybody remained silent, watching Banks leaving in his truck. After a moment, Jordan headed inside, followed by the two men.

* * *

_Meanwhile__..._

"Oh, come on, Jordan," he almost whined. "I need it."

Her lips curled into a smile. "And to think I've always pegged you as a gentleman."

"What's so ungentlemanly about this?" he asked, choosing to ignore the _tsk_ sounds she was making. "I have certain needs I have to fulfill."

"Well, those needs of yours might lead to your untimely death," she pointed out.

"Yeah?" His eyebrows shot up. "How so? Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Do you know how much fat this thing has in it?" For a moment she studied the label on the precious jar she had been holding behind her back. "Your cholesterol's bound to fly off the charts. I'm trying to do you a favor here," she said in such a tone as though she was reasoning with a stubborn child. "So _I'm_ going to eat it. For a greater good," she concluded.

Woody glanced at his beloved peanut butter. "Oh, how nice of you!" His grin was every bit as sarcastic as the voice in which he'd uttered the words. "But we wouldn't want _your_ cholesterol flying off the charts, either, would we?"

"No worries," she retorted nonchalantly, unscrewing the lid. "We had a health check two weeks ago. I'm fit as a fiddle." She grinned.

"Don't you wanna stay that way?" He took something from the fridge. "This nice low-fat butter is very beneficial to one's health, I'm sure."

"Meh," she shrugged, "you can have it." Then she smiled a devilish little smile. "It's great that it's low-fat. We wouldn't want you to put on weight, would we now?" She looked up from the sandwich she was preparing. Her look was that of pure innocence, though she was finding it hard to keep a straight face. He was always a bit touchy when it came to his weight. "And you could easily get out of shape in these two weeks."

"It's eleven days now," he muttered. "And what do you mean by that?" He almost glared at her.

"Well, all that junk food you've been ordering in and those supplies of cherry-flavored Pez will hardly do any good to your figure, I reckon."

"Oh, yeah?!" He rolled his shirt up. "Check up these abs! You could do laundry on 'em!"

She grinned her Cheshire cat grin. "Oh, yes, I could," she admitted, her voice turning silky. "But I have something else in mind…" she confessed, slowly running her hands across his abs.

He lifted her chin and claimed her lips. "Like what, for example?" he murmured between little kisses.

"Oh, I don't know. I've got a few ideas rolling around in my head," she all but purred. "We'll see," she added, pulling away, "in about eleven days." She smiled at him, returning to her sandwiches.

He pursed his lips. "Anybody ever told you how mean you are?"

"I get that _all_ the time."

He sighed and gave her a peck on the cheek. "The game's probably started," he muttered and proceeded to the living room.

Just as he found the most comfortable position, she entered the room, a tray with peanut butter sandwiches and two big glasses of orange juice in her hands. She put it down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"You do know I was teasing you, right?" she asked, a bit apprehensive, as she sat beside him.

When he didn't answer in about five seconds, she continued, "Oh, c'mon!" She smacked him playfully on the arm. "If I'm capable of watching the Badgers," she glanced towards the TV, "I'm capable of anything – even if it's sharing the last of the peanut butter."

He pulled her closer and kissed her hair. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"Nice to hear it."

After a few minutes she began to fidget. "I can't hear a thing." She frowned. "You found that remote yet?"

He shook his head. "It's like it's vanished into thin air."

"I'll find it, alright." She stood up. "I'm tired of getting up every five seconds."

"Just leave it, Jordan." He waved his hand dismissively. "I'll look it up later."

But she was already in front of the shelf occupying one of the walls. "I'm gonna find it _now_," she told him, moving books, magazines and photos in the search of the lost remote control.

Managing to take his eyes off of the TV for a second, he threw her a glance and his blood ran cold. "Jordan, it's definitely not…" But it was too late. "…there," he finished as she was staring at the small black box she found very familiar.

* * *

**A/N** Hey! I don't own the little reference about laundry that you had just found, that is from "_You Really Got Me_" episode. Ah! and don't leave me this way, please stop for a minute and review! It might stop me from leaving you waiting too long. (I said, it might...)


	4. Blame Game

I, one of Joyce Quinn's alter egos, am to blame for the slow updates. I know I say that all the time, but here it is again: I'm sorry.

By the way, Cal's punctuation and/or grammar errors are entirely his fault. :)

* * *

**Chapter 4: Blame Game**

The light was fading out of the horizon and the chilly wind of autumn was blowing through their bones. Fortunately for them, the electricity still worked and there were a couple of oil radiators in the living room. Nigel was happy that he was finally able to plug in his computer, as his battery had almost run out, He was franticly checking if they had signal at that lost house in the woods. James concluded that they would need a little more than they had to warm the house, so he left to pick some wood for the fireplace. Jordan was oblivious of anything that didn't have to do with Cal's letter.

She opened it carefully, keeping in mind that Woody would want to read it when he recovered. She didn't want to spoil the impression of the first opening. Her hands were trembling as she was struggling with the feeling that it was wrong to read a letter that wasn't meant for her.

_Woody:_

_I don't know if you'll ever come back home, but as I'm not gonna be there for now and until things smooth out, I wanted you to know this. You're my brother and despite the fact that you don't like me anymore, I do love you. I wanted to do things right, I wanted to be the man you wanted me to, but I can't meet your expectations, they are way too high, and I just end up frustrated. Dad was always mad at me because I didn't do things like you. I know I screwed it up and I know you're absolutely right not to forgive me, I don't blame you for throwing me out. I guess I'm not only a knucklehead, but an idiot, and a bad one too. I almost ripped my head off trying to get rid of the guilt. I don't really deserve your forgiveness, I don't know if I can even forgive myself. I hope your friend will completely recover. I didn't think that spying on you guys was really a crime; that was easy money and the only thing I had to do was hanging out with you, that I can tell I enjoyed. _

_I enjoyed being with Jordan too; she is such a beautiful and smart girl. I could see that she is in love with you bro, I hope you do get her. And don't tell me that you're just good friends because I know how your mind works. You'll try to convince yourself that you don't deserve her and then you'll __go on living a miserable life until she jumps your bones. I don't know if she'll do that as you always say that she has commitment issues. My best advice, and the only good thing that I can do for you, is that you have to tell her you love her before something like what happened to us happens to you and she._

_Jordan is nothing like Annie. She's not naive or dad-dependent, she is clever and strong, she'll kick your ass when you need it, and if she's willing to stick her neck out for your brother, guess what she'll not be up to for you. It was stupid to risk her life in that thing with Albie, but believe it or not, I thought I could come out of it clean and with a few bucks, and then disappear from your life. I didn't mean for this to happen, I'm really stupid. I have to disappear because Albie's cousins are looking for me. I don't want to put you in trouble anymore, so I'll take care of this myself alone for once in my life. I don't know when, but someday I want to show you that I can take care of myself, it's about time for me to do that. I don't want to go south, I've been there plenty. You're at the east, that's forbidden to me; the north is a little frosty and doesn't fit what I promised to you, so, I'll try the west. Like in a good action movie I guess._

_I love you Woody._

_Knucklehead Cal._

_P.S. If you got this letter, it means I haven't been able to come back and I don't know when I'll be, if ever, so you do with the house whatever you think is the best. It's all yours now._

"There is signal!" shouted Nigel, relief shining on his face.

"He went west," murmured Jordan, her look lost.

"What?" Nigel hadn't noticed what Jordan was doing and realized it when he saw the letter hanging open in her hand.

At that moment James arrived with an armful of wood. He threw his load beside the fireplace. "West? Where west?" he asked as he cleaned his hands on his pants.

"He doesn't say; he just says he'll try west, like in a good action movie," Jordan quoted, finally sitting down.

"So, California?" suggested James.

"I don't know, maybe. The west is vast, and he didn't reveal the place with his comment… I don't know, he told sheriff Banks he was gonna try New York…" Nigel was thinking out loud.

"But that's east, and that's forbidden for him," Jordan countered.

"Forbidden? Why?" asked Nigel.

"I think the reason is the same one that's led your detective and his brother not to be on speaking terms any more, isn't it, Jordan? Is that the reason his brother left and is hiding even from his friends?" James was fishing, and Nigel got even more confused.

"What do you know? You know something, you tell it!" she demanded. James appeared to be so assured of what he said, and she just realized that he knew more that he'd let them believe. "You told me you'll drag him even from the mob if you had to… You know more. Tell me!"

"I wasn't sure until now" James blurted out as he stared at Nigel. "Cal was a mob snitch, a snitch for the Albanian mob, that is. He was the reason your friend got almost killed, and that's the reason the detective threw him out." He looked at Jordan, softening his tone,"I already knew he was spying on you at the digging site, that is well-known in the underworld, sis. That's why he is in danger, and he's right to be hiding the best he can. That's also one of the reasons he couldn't go east, the Albanian family is there. Now I see that your detective buried everything even from his friends -- another reason he couldn't go east. But you knew why he couldn't have gone east, so you had to know too."

"Is it true, Jordan? Bug was in danger because of Cal?"

The incredulity in Nigel's voice was breaking Jordan's heart. "Yes, yes it is. That's why Woody didn't want him in his life anymore… But you have to understand that he is his brother, he wasn't about to send him to jail… Being on the mob's wanted list is more than enough punishment," she tried to justify their past actions to her friend, knowing that neither of them had any opportunity to come out of this with no blame -- this was a lose-lose game. She had thought it through when she had realized they would have to find Cal.

"It wasn't up to Woody or you to decide what his punishment would be. You had to turn him in. Maybe today we would have him located and we wouldn't have to be searching for a ghost!" Nigel's blood boiled at the news.

"Or maybe he would have died long time ago in a jail 'accident' and Woody's chances would have narrowed to zero!"

Jordan left the house as fast as she could, struggling with her crutches. James followed right behind her, careful not to invade her personal space, and Nigel was left alone in the living room to reflect on the new development.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

She found it strangely hard to unglue her eyes from the contents of the box. It wasn't that she was mesmerized by the joyous twinkling of the little gems embedded in the intricately carved white gold; the old saying about a girl's best friends didn't hold true when it came to her. It was that she had just been reminded of a couple of days she'd rather forget.

"You kept it?" Her voice was almost a whisper.

He only nodded. He'd rather forget those days too.

Silence reigned for what seemed an eternity.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

Her eyebrows raised. "For what?" she asked slowly, closing the little box.

"For giving it... the friendship," he made quotation marks in the air as he uttered the last word, "ring to you." He shook his head. "It was a really stupid thing to do. We both knew what I was trying to do." He smiled to himself morosely. It had seemed such a good idea at the time...

She came to sit beside him."No, I am sorry." She put the box on the table and took his hand into both hers. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. It was just... too much too soon." She flashed him the trademark lopsided smile of hers. "Then again, I guess it's always too soon with me." When he didn't smile back, she continued softly. The words were coming slowly; the wound had been renewed and the pain was becoming ever stronger. "But I wanted it. Later... when I was about to call you and you said-"

"Don't say it, please." He put his fingertips over her mouth. Her every word was searing him; and it wasn't her fault. "I was such an ass that evening. I thought I knew what you were going to say, and I just couldn't let you pull my strings again," he confessed. "I was about ready to shoot myself fifteen minutes later."

"I was about ready to shoot you fifteen minutes later." Her lips curled into a little smile. "When my vanity woke up."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I always blow it."

She tilted her head, looking at him intently. "You still didn't blew it now."

As he was staring at her blankly, she slightly nodded and everything came together all of a sudden. He took the box and, not caring how corny that might be, got down on one knee. When he spoke, his voice was gruff.

"Will you marry me, Jordan?"

"Yes," she said quietly before plopping on the floor beside him.

He pulled her closer. And then, right before she briskly hid her face in his chest, she smiled. Hadn't he known better, he would have sworn that smile was coy.


End file.
